


Ichor

by awkwardedgeworth



Series: Wanderers [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: M/M, ish, not a lot of otayuri because this is a prequel (sort) to wanderers but it's there in the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 23:29:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11656923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awkwardedgeworth/pseuds/awkwardedgeworth
Summary: Yuri cuts him off, "You can't just start a story about your birth— the birth of gods I might have to add, and leave it off there. I need answers! I need a story!""It'sreally," He emphasizes the word, "Really long."(or, the origin of the god of victory)





	Ichor

**Author's Note:**

> purely a self-indulgent story where (was inspired by watching wonder woman twice in theaters) i test out a new writing voice. please tell me how you like it and if it reflects otabek's character at all. enjoy.

"How are gods born?"

Otabek looks up from the game of chess against one of the onsen's many fishes. Currently, he's versing against his favorite sunfish, the one with alternating gold and brown stripes in the pattern of zebras. He takes a knight before turning to Yuri, who's trying to stretch his knee out.

"What do you mean?"

"Like...how are gods...born."

"Our origin story?" Yuri nods at that and he frowns at the board before becoming distracted. He waves the fish away and walks over to Yuri sitting on a mat, a breeze blowing from the open sliding doors of his room. "Why the sudden curiosity?"

"Well, you never told me how you were born. And every time I try to think of you all in your terrible twos stage, I get the shivers. Especially when it's JJ."

He thinks of his cousins being called forth into existence with the entirety of their clan to greet them, "There's two ways to be born: rebirth or at the will of others. Phichit is usually the first one to know because he is the god of names. All of us then are gathered in our formal wear to welcome the new god, it's not very exciting."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, instead, I was born out of a volcano."

Yuri shoots him a flat look, "Otabek, what the fuck."

"Zhanym—"

"Don't  _zhanym_ me," Yuri cuts him off, "You can't just start a story about your birth— the birth of gods I might have to add, do you know how humans are born? Because it is NOT as cool as being born out of volcanoes— and leave it off there with no context. I need answers! I need a story!"

"It's  _really_ ," He emphasizes the word, "Really long," He was not made to be a god, being born in the hopes of being a weapon of war.

Yuri glares at him.

Otabek sighs, "Tell you what, do the knee exercises and I'll call Phichit over," He stands up and brushes the lint off his pants, striding over to his desk to pull a piece of paper from a stack. The words glow as he writes them, the paper curling up by itself before it winks out of existence.

"Why Phichit?"

"Because Phichit is a greater story teller than I am," Otabek bends down and presses a kiss onto Yuri's head, "And he has this book that when open, shows pictures. It's great."

 

He was not intended to be a god when he was born.

The earliest memory he has is his sister holding him in her arms, her skin sooty where her imperial armor and robes doesn't cover, ash and smoke around them. She stands at the edge of a crater, liquid rock oozing below them, occasionally bubbling. Afterwards, her hands were burnt black from holding him.

"For a victory," She murmurs in his ears, smoke billowing around them as his lungs pull in air, cold despite the heat of the volcano below them. "What is needed?"

Her eyes are clear when he speaks, her eyebrows smooth.

"Does that answer your question?"

He doesn't have a sense of self at this point. He is nothing more but Zarina's blood, molded from fire and born out of a wish, able to see the future in grim flashes. He looks up clearly at her, knowing to not touch her face in case she winces from the heat running under his skin.

Instead of answering his question, she tilts her head curiously at him, "Do you have a name?"

"I am nameless, I'm not a goddess, unlike you."

"Yet you speak our language and take on a physical form like us," She glances around them, hurrying to a boulder. He's set on it, watching her armor disappear as she shrugs out her outer robe. Her inner robe is a dark green colour with gold stitching embroidering the edges in whimsical patterns and she wraps that around him, ripping the extra fabric away so he doesn't trip.

"I will call you," She bends down to his eye level, armour flickering back on, " _Qaz_ , for now. It means  _to wander_."

"What am I?"

She lifts him up in his arms, looking out. He follows her gaze and sees a small city below, tall glass buildings aflame, a golden mosque with a silver dome protecting it, smoke washing over the shorter buildings. The sky is blood red, clouds a darker tint. Everything is on fire.

"I wished for a weapon to win me a war against the spirits, and they have given me you," She presses a blade against his back of his hand, watching beads of forming. "Not the golden blood of gods then. We will worry about that later."

Then he's bending his face into her neck, the winds swirling around them angrily.

 

The war is long fought. He remains by his sister's side, their shared blood giving them a bond stronger than most though his is red and not gold. Zarina corrects everyone they meet that he's not her blessed vessel, whatever that means. The large mosque he saw from the summit of the volcano flickers into different buildings, each one as grand as the last one.

At first he's hidden from the majority of the court, hiding in his own apartments as he amuses himself by looking out the window. There are toys and little trinkets but he ignores them. When Zarina does take him out, everyone is happy to see him and he meets someone that resembles Zarina, though her hair is darker and her mouth a kinder curve. Her name is Madina.

"It means 'the city'," She swings him up onto a stone railing, both of them looking out into the collection of glass, steel and stone houses. Grey smoke continues to spiral up into the air, "I protect this dimension," She tells him sadly.

There's another dimension, an alternate home called Here. Madina tells him that there are beings who look like them, except that their blood runs red, and they don't have powers.

"You could be a human," Zarina tells him one day, returning from the front lines, sitting in his apartments. He's sitting up in his bed, watching her rub her face with a cloth. The water turns grey then black by the time she finishes cleaning under her nails. It's as if she has the weight of the world on her shoulders, the curve of her neck bent, an empty, hollow look in her eyes.

"Would it be a problem if I'm human?"

Zarina stills, watching him carefully, "They're physically more fragile than us, and their life span are shorter. How old are you again?"

He doesn't know. Zarina then asks a glowing cat spirit wandering throughout the halls of the large golden mosque to wake up a god called Seung-gil. As the cat streaks away, she disappears into another room and comes back in a simple robe of dark blue, keeping her arm protectors on.

"I was called?" A young man enters the room, raising his eyebrows up when he sees Qaz on his bed.

Seung-gil is wearing a simple tunic with pants, a thick belt made of stiff, darker material tied around his waist. His entire robes are washed with shades of light blue, the only other splash of colour being the golden ear cuffs he wears on both ears— no. When he turns, there's a red earring dangling in the shape of a teardrop from one lobe. It sweeps his right shoulder.

"And?"

"I was wondering how old he is."

Seung-gil's features then shift, his frame shrinking, muscles disappearing, body becoming a different proportion as he sits down on the edge of Qaz's bed, "This one is around fourteen. Fifteen at most. He ages faster than mortals, he's definitely not a human."

"Will you take him, Seung-gil?"

"Where?"

"He foresees victories. Anywhere. Teach him how to wield a sword."

Seung-gil turns to him, "May I call you Otabek?"

At this, Zarina scoffs, "What's wrong with 'Qaz'?"

"I will not have a member of my army wander around," To Qaz, he smiles a little, "Otabek means gold, like Zarina's name. Baek-ah— no, Beka for short." He turns back to Zarina, "There's a way to know if he's a god or not. Regalias."

The conversation then becomes too convoluted, and he loses interest, choosing to close his eyes and let his mind drift in the darkness. When he wakes, the skies, usually red and angry looking, is a more muted shade of orange and pink. There's a set of fine green robes with gold bordering the edges at the foot of his bed along with knee high leather boots that will be covered by the amount of fabric from the robes.

He dresses himself and catches a sight of his hair in the mirror. He wets his hand in a natural sink overflowing with water and fixes the worst of it as Madina steps into the room, humming.

Normally so cheery, she looks gravely at his hair, "I'll bring you to someone who can do hair."

He takes her hand and follows her through the hall, wondering why the battle outside has ceased for now, the skies not returning to its angry red colour. He doesn't even smell smoke in the air, "Is there something important happening today?"

"The birth and death of the thunder god."

He steps into a large circular room, the walls riddled with paintings as several curious heads swivel to see him hand in hand with Madina. He's the youngest by several decades, save for several younger looking gods in the center. Zarina is one of them, her long black hair twisted into a bun.

A broad-shouldered god is bleeding on the white tiles, gold dripping slowly as he quietly murmurs an incantation. There's a light, and a little boy with black hair, wrapped in purple robes, comes into existence, his feet slowly being lowered as he floats down.

The two, the grizzled god with grey hair and beard and the young boy, look at each other before Otabek blinks.

The older god has disappeared.

His sister bends down to her knees, crouching to see the young god at eye-level, "What is your name?"

"Jean-Jacques Leroy, I am a thunder god," The skies outside rumble threateningly as he states his name, grey eyes wandering throughout the crowd before he spots Otabek and dashes to him.

Taken completely by surprise, the boy launches himself at him and Otabek scrabbles at his robes to hold onto something, his fingertips tingling as he lands on his back.

"You're young!" Jean exclaims, eyes wide. "Like me!"

Otabek is about to tell him that he doesn't appreciate being shocked repeatedly by little lightning bolts when Seung-gil grabs Jean-Jacques Leroy by the scruff of his robes, letting him dangle in the air like a misbehaved puppy, "First lesson: we don't charge at members of the court like that."

The little thunder god sulks.

Seung-gil keeps holding onto him, "I think an apology would suffice."

"Sorry. What's your name?"

"Otabek," He can see Zarina raise an eyebrow while a small smile catches the corner of Seung-gil's lips. "Do we call you Jean-Jacques?"

"That's too long, call me JJ," He starts kicking pointedly and floats down when Seung-gil releases him. Now that the rebirth has been completed, most of the court are leaving in twos and threes, armour popping onto their bodies as they talk of saddling up and immediately relieving the front lines. Only his sisters and a man with black, bowl cut-esque hair remaining at the middle where the older god had stood. "So what are you?"

Otabek shoots a look at Seung-gil, who shrugs at him. JJ watches his exchange with a curious look in his eyes.

"I...don't know?"

"We're working on what he is," Zarina's voice calls out. Madina and the other person had cleared out the large circular room, leaving them alone. "He bleeds red yet grows like a god. He is not a spirit because he carries my blood beneath his skin." 

"Regalia," JJ says. It's that word again. Otabek's not sure if he's mishearing things or if they're talking in another language.

Seung-gil tells the young thunder god that he'll be in charge of Otabek's sword training first before they delve into the Regalia business. It's a sticky situation to find spirits to turn into Regalias right now anyway, with the war still occurring. At the mention of war, JJ's bright, child-like eyes sobers. He asks Seung-gil what the current situation is in the front as Zarina starts tugging him away.

"You'll learn the military terms later," She steers him down an outside hallway, both of them tasting smoke in the air as the skies once again, become red. The clouds are dark grey; he doesn't know whether it reflects the presence of storms or if it's welcoming JJ into their world. Regardless, he flinches when thunder booms.

Bowl cut man is sitting in one of the palace's gazebo, a pair of golden scissors beside him. He's holding a lumpy, shapeless black fabric.

Zarina bends down to whisper in his ear, "This is Phichit. He does hair stuff, from what Madina tells me."

"I do more than hair stuff," He winks when Otabek cautiously climbs into the chair provided. The lump black cloth is a cape of sorts, and Phichit ties it snugly against his throat before wetting Otabek's hair. He then starts trimming it. Zarina wanders off into the central courtyard, crouching down to look at some plants. 

Phichit holds his shoulder steady when the skies rumbles and a blue light flashes across.

"There's lots of storms down on Earth."

"Really?"

"Really. I don't suggest visiting now though. Not until you've brushed up on reading and writing. I might add that humans speak more than a hundred different dialects and languages," He points in the distance to a tall glass building. "See that?"

"Yes."

"That building comes from the future. If you'd go down now, you won't see it anywhere in sight until a lengthy amount of time passes," Phichit continues to trim his hair, pulling on two strands to compare the length, "Time flows differently between our dimension and theirs. You always need to be careful in the way you talk and dress. It's a good thing we have Chris."

Phichit finally deems him to be free, and he leaps to his feet, spinning around to see Phichit vanish the black cape with a wave of his hands. Tiny creatures with fur and small feet clean up the hair on the gazebo floors.

He runs a hand through his hair, expecting to meet something a little longer than peach fuzz.

Zarina laughs as he frantically pats his entire head, sighing in relief when Phichit has left the top of his head untouched.

"It's what the fighters around here have, the exception is Seung-gil, but that man can knock down a rampaging spirit in his sleep," Zarina extends a hand, and he takes it, feeling the smooth skin.

 

For some reason, Seung-gil hasn't reverted to his older, larger form. He's a little bit taller than Otabek is right now, and nearly as weedy for the exception of his arms. Where Otabek is left-footed as he scurries after Seung-gil to the training rink in one of the courtyards, Seung-gil is grace himself.

There's another god there, younger than his sisters but older than Seung-gil. He looks on curiously as someone snaps at him for attention.

They enter a large, barn-esque building, the wooden rafters high in the air with golden dust motes dancing around. There's two small rings filled with wood chips and sand. The first is occupied by the younger god talking to a superior and the second one is empty. All around the walls are wooden swords and shields covered with leather.

Seung-gil steers him to swords that are more proportional for his size, stepping back, "Okay, go pick one."

Otabek stares at the spread of weapons. Wooden weapons, but still weapons nonetheless. There's so many of them.

He picks a dagger the length of his forearm with a curved edge. Seung-gil nods approvingly.

"With shorter blades, you need to be comfortable fighting closer than you would with longer blades," Seung-gil fixes his hold, molding his fingers to the leather strips on the handle. "Of course, you won't need these weapons if you take on a Regalia." 

"What  _is_ a Regalia?"

Seung-gil only stiffens a little, "They're spirits. They can only reside here in this dimension."

"Do they bleed red?"

"They used to be humans, so yes they bleed red. Though they're not immortal, they can be alive for a very long time."

"And with a Regalia?" Otabek prompts.

"They're our weapons," Seung-gil takes two curved blades the length of his arm and steps into a graceful dance, whipping the wooden replicas around his shoulders and over his head. "We gods have the power to offer them a binding contract. They serve us and we give them a home to stay in."

That doesn't sound as complicated as he would have thought, "But we're currently in a war against them?"

"Border disputes. We only have a limited amount of land, as you can see. Since more gods are being born each day, we need more space. The spirits are testy that we're taking more and more of their home."

"Why don't you just all offer them a contract? We can live together."

From across the room, the younger god with brown hair gasps audibly, the sword in his hand slipping out of his grip. Seung-gil immediately turns, lip pursed.

"Why would you even  _say_ that?"

" _Michele_ ," Seung-gil warns.

The brown haired god falters when he sees the promise of death written all over Seung-gil's expression. He grabs the fallen sword and hurries out of the training ring, placing the sword on the wall before leaving.

"...What did I say?" Otabek asks, worried. 

"You didn't do anything wrong, it's just that," Seung-gil pauses, "The binding contract is...binding. For life."

"Oh...kay?"

"Usually, it's not a big problem, but if the relationship between master and Regalia is strained, the only way to dissolve the bond is to kill the Regalia, thus, the spirits have to be absolutely sure that they want to serve that particular god. That's why we generally only keep one or two Regalias."

"But you have..." Otabek does a mental head count, "Fifteen."

"They're my blessed weapons in battle," Seung-gil ends the conversation there and drills Otabek on down swings and footwork for the rest of the day.

The next several mornings, Otabek wakes up feeling like his muscles have turned into stone, yet Seung-gil carries on, bringing out an animal.

"This is one of the beasts we keep, a horse, sort of," Seung-gil amicably say as the monster starts chewing on Seung-gil's hair. Otabek would approach it if it weren't for the large hooves that could break his toes. "Come forward and say hi."

The beast, known as Aida, sniffs Otabek's nose and neck before it snorts. It's rather cuddly when Seung-gil steps away, Aida repeatedly headbutting him on the shoulders.

"She behaves very well."

"Yeah she's the nicest one we have, the others are terrors. Zarina asked me to make you ride one."

"Why?"

"We use them in battle in the front lines, advantage of height, their fire-breathing power, et cetera," Seung-gil throws him a blanket and what supposed to be a saddle, Otabek only catching it at the very last minute as the leather straps burn in his hold.

He lost count of how many full moons waned before JJ starts shooting up like a tree, joining him under Seung-gil's tutelage. Zarina, on days where she's back from the front lines, watches both of them spar in the training ring. 

"Otabek," She waves him over.

He grabs a towel from where he'd slung it over the ring earlier and wipes his sweat away, following her as she leads him away into a corner he rarely explores, "What?—"

An Aida look-a-like stares back at him before he realizes that it's slightly smaller and not one of the horses the palace keeps. This one has a shiny black coat and unnatural amber eyes. Its nostrils are smoking. 

Otabek raises the leather-covered shield strapped to his left arm automatically to block the weak plume of fire directed at him, Zarina clearing the smoke with a lazy wave of her hands.

"I'm giving him to you."

"You are?"

Zarina nods, watching the monster, "I found him left behind near the front and slung him over my saddle. These aren't like the horses Phichit showed you from his books, so you can start breaking him in. This one seems responsive to the bridle when I tried earlier."

"Shouldn't I wait until he's fully grown?"

"You could, but keep him in a separate stall. He's got quite the attitude and he spooks the mares. I'm worried that the longer you wait the more difficult he will be to break in."

Otabek watches the demon horse sniff the wood chips below his hooves curiously, "Thank you, Zarina."

His sister winks before leaving with a swirl of her robes, brushing off stray pieces of bark off her cuffs.

 

After consulting Phichit on all the books he owns about fire-breathing demon horses, he's wondering if Zarina is pulling his leg.

They're hard to break in and are powerful enough to bite clean through imperial armor. That and Otabek has to take him to a different part of the barn that's not full of wood unless he wants to commit arson.

He watches Seung-gil rub Aida's nose mournfully before peeking into his horse's stall after morning lessons, watching the amber eyes glow red in suspicion.

"Calm boy, it's me."

Smoke puffs out from the horse's nostrils. Otabek sighs and ties a bandanna to cover his mouth and nose.

After an excruciating fifteen minutes of trying to lead the demon horse out of the stall and out to the back, where he ends up putting all of his strength in tugging the lead rope, he ties the horse temporarily to a sturdy post and sits on the fence of an outdoor training ring, watching another young god break his horse— a chestnut coloured stallion— in.

Demon Horse wanders over and sniffs Otabek's clothes, mouthing open the belt for treats.

Otabek rubs the nose, "What should I call you?"

"Fumar is a good name, it means smoke."

Demon Horse snorts when he turns around, seeing the young god that was trotting earlier come up to him. Like his stallion, his hair is chestnut coloured and his eyebrows are several shades darker. Though he's not wearing a short robe that falls around his hips like Otabek is, exposing the top half of his body to the sun, he's wearing black pants and imperial armor arm guards.

"Leo," The god nods, leaning forward to pat the calm stallion, "This is Benito."

Otabek is halfway into lowering himself into the bow Zarina had taught him when Leo leaps off his horse and hauls him up, yelping, "No, no! No need to bow!"

"But you're a god," Otabek says, straightening his back as Leo continues to hold his upper arm. 

Leo grimaces, "I'm not really that important. I have affinity over beasts and animals, hence why I'm here training the fire horses instead of fighting with our cousins at the front lines," When he comes closer, Demon Horse immediately ceases blowing smoke into Otabek's stinging eyes, ears swiveling gently. His eyes reverts back to a warm amber.

Otabek watches Leo give him a head scratch, gaping when Demon Horse allows his slightly knotted mane to be maneuvered into button braids.

"It took me fifteen minutes to just pull him out."

"Stallions are notorious for being difficult, you have to be firm when you start training him," Leo says, stepping back and tilting his head, "This guy's a little short."

"Is he?"

"Yeah, look at Benito, they're usually seventeen hands tall," Leo opens Demon Horse's mouth, examining his teeth. Otabek blanches when he sees sharp canines and incisors, wondering if Leo knows what he's doing, "He's not fully grown yet, maybe he'll grow a couple of hands. What are you going to name him?"

Otabek rubs Demon Horse's snout, watching the amber eyes blink, "Helios," He tries.

He gets a puff of smoke in his face, but the snort of approval seems to ring true because Leo is nodding.

"Why don't you try jogging next to him with a blanket on him? Get him used to it."

All afternoon and for several more weeks, JJ wipes the floor with Otabek and washes off, leaving for afternoon classes while Otabek works with Helios until the sun sets. He eats dinner with whomever isn't on the front lines fighting and passes out before being waken by the morning sun streaming right into his face.

"You're going to the front lines tomorrow," Zarina says one night.

His back is black and blue from being JJ's sparring partner and he has rope burn from when Helios hurtled out into the outdoor training ring with no warning, "What do you mean?"

Zarina places some more chicken into his bowl, "JJ's of age and he's posted under Seung-gil. He has requested me to let you come along, and though you can't ride, you can help the infantry."

And so, he forgoes sleep and chooses to pack his scant belongings, Zarina dumping several sets of pants and short robes before escorting him to a middle-aged man with long grey hair who fashions Otabek a set of imperial armor on the spot, tape measure and buckles floating in the air next to him. His thin lips are slightly pursed, perhaps bothered that the likes of Otabek is wearing highly regarded armour even though he't not supposed to.

Helios is sleeping in a corner when Otabek is released at midnight, ears flicking forward as his red eyes turn to amber. Otabek drops down and trust that his horse won't try to roll over on him.

"Leo is going to take care of you while I'm gone, be good to him."

Helios snorts in displeasure, ears going flat. He nips Otabek when he offers him a sugar cube but eventually settles, whipping his long tail over Otabek's face. Benito snoozes peacefully in the stall next to Helios, the stable full of quiet breathing, and eventually, Otabek's eyelids droop down, lulled by the exhaustion and warm heat from his horse.

JJ is the one who wakes him up and passes him a roll of bread and some smoked meat, both of them running to catch up to Seung-gil waiting at the front gate. They're a group of twenty at most, dressed in plainclothes with hats blocking the harsh sun. 

He's never been allowed out of the palace, and like JJ, he looks around the capital in all its dawn glory, watching the rays hitting the glass buildings, passing brick walls, thatched roofs, ceramic pottery drying outside, iron gates fencing off land. They ride past a large park with a large pond in the middle, the surface to still it reflects the clouds above like a mirror. Everything is neat and orderly, though as they head towards the mountains, the houses start to thin out and the smooth, well-worn stone turns into dirt paths with weeds sprouting at the edges.

The riders with horses advance, and JJ, being on horseback, goes ahead with Seung-gil's second in command. Seung-gil stays behind with Otabek, letting Aida walk leisurely.

"You can go ahead."

"And get my head served on a platter to your sister? No thanks."

"I thought I was only a foot soldier."

Seung-gil gives him a look, "Have you ever crossed swords with anyone other than JJ?"

"No, I'm breaking the fire horse in."

"You're thinking too low of yourself. If you go against majority of the gods and goddesses, I say you have a fair chance of disarming them," Seung-gil moves ahead, tying back his chin-length hair away as heat snakes underfoot. "We're nearly there, let's go."

Five moon cycles later, Phichit welcomes him back in the palace, smiling warily. He hasn't aged at all, hair even at the same length it was before Otabek left.

"Food or bath?"

Otabek picks the latter, allowing Phichit's hamster assistants to take his pack away from his hand even though he's not a god, too weary to decline. The moon was starting to rise when he arrived in the outskirt of the capitals with ten other gods and goddesses returning home. He could barely manage several paces before he enters the baths and feebly pulls his robes away, stepping into the warm pool of water.

He swims into the middle, leaning back as his toes barely touch the bottom, gazing up at the white, domed ceilings. He floats for several minutes, hearing footsteps echo throughout the lower floors of the palace.

Otabek reaches for a cloth and starts scrubbing at his skin until it's pink and raw, avoiding his healing cuts as the water turns murky. He washes himself off at another part of the baths and rubs a pleasant smelling gel into his hair, spreading it over his sore muscles and scooping buckets of water over his head as he rinses off.

A hamster spirit is holding clean robes for him, and he wraps himself in the soft cotton before meeting his sister outside the baths, the chill of winter sweeping through the palace. She looks older but smiles at his return.

"Welcome home." 

"Thanks."

He knows the game the court plays. Everything outside private apartments are to be kept as emotionless as possible, weakness is preyed upon here, and Zarina walks a precarious line with her open affections. It might be why she was forced to send him to the front lines regardless of JJ's request. She can't be soft.

Helios perks up from his corner when they arrive in the stables. Otabek dangles an apple and watches Helios huff away, showing him his tail in a clear sign that he's not pleased his master left him. 

Zarina suggests placing the apple on the stall, and then she whisks him off to the courtyards, tip-toeing to the gazebo.

"Nothing like you'd imagine, right?"

If he closes his eyes, he could still see imprints of fire horses rearing up on their hind legs, gods and goddesses wielding spears, swords, whips, and other weapons. There were spirits who threw fire in his face, who sucked the air out of his lungs, who could split the very earth he stood on and other terrible things. It was every god for themselves, cutting down opponents before moving onto the next one in an endless cycle of repeat. Even if he was injured, he pushed on, numb.

Seung-gil had led every charge, leading his horse with his legs as his arms wield twin spears in accordance to Zarina's orders: injure, not kill. Nearly every night before they retire, Otabek would tell Seung-gil that their odds were of winning. If he gets flashes of the future that day, he includes that too.

"They were at a stalemate when I left."

Zarina looks older; fine lines settling into the corners of her eyes as a few strands of grey dance in the wind, "I'm going to the front tomorrow with Chris to negotiate. You're welcome to come with me."

"It's fine, I'll stay here."

The moon is properly up in the sky when she gives his shoulders a gentle pat, as if knowing that his back off limits, having been gravely injured by a pack of monsters days ago. Perhaps she did. He wouldn't put it past her.

 

One of the war gods is dying, and there's a court meeting about who will replace him.

"This time around, the floor is open for one of the minor gods to take over since Phichit didn't see a new god being born," Seung-gil mumbles into his ear as they stand at the edge of the room along the walls, watching Zarina pace around the front, who has reverted to her youthful visage. Michele and several other gods are listening to her every word, all of them exuding desperation from every pore. It would be high honour for any of them to rise in the ranks.

Otabek attends the meeting to support his sister and spends the afternoon following Madina around the city, twirling around excitedly as the capital prepares itself for a celebration to end the long war. Several minor gods stare at them in awe on the streets, one even offering Otabek some sweets for his efforts at the front line.

"Stories were brought by our brothers and sisters on their return," One says, still kneeling as Otabek shoots Madina an alarmed look, unsure on how to let the minor god know that he's  _not_ a god and certainly  _not_ a war hero, "They speak of your courage as you fought alongside the thunder god, covering blows meant for him. Commander Seung-gil's cousins were very much impressed with your sharp instincts when it comes to navigating the terrain. You also fought off a pack of dire wolves on your own, Lord, a feat most impressive despite your lineage."

His back twinges in the reminder of man-sized wolf, all canines and claws, mouth sparking with electricity, "It's actually only two wolves—"

"You risked your life to save your troops, pushing away the thought of your finite lifespan as you lay your head down for the crown! And there was also a bear involved!" He maintains his kneel, still offering the sweets, speaking somberly, "My Lord, there are even gods who do not trifle with dire wolves and golden bears. You do us a great service."

"Please," He says quickly as people start to crowd, curious as to what the fuss is all about, "You don't need to bow."

One of Seung-gil's cousins spots him and draws him over to a nearby park, boasting to his friends about Otabek's heroic efforts. Someone brought instruments out and by the time Zarina strolls down with Phichit and Chris next to her, in search of Madina and Otabek, they've finished five songs and drafted three poems to be performed in the upcoming celebration.

"Lady," Seung-gil's cousin bows.

"Dae-hyun," Zarina greets warmly, "What have you got there?"

Otabek shoots his sister a foul look.

"Five songs and three poems on...Lord Otabek's highlights."

"Please drop the lord stuff," He hisses, going bright red, watching Phichit hide his grin in the sleeve of his robes. Chris has rolled his up to his arms and laughs out loud.

"You might want to start getting used to that title, Otabek."

While Zarina strums a three stringed instrument and tries her hand at singing one of the songs, Otabek frowns at Chris, "What do you mean?"

"Someone nominated your name to be the next god of war."

His eye twitches, "Pardon?"

"I received a report from one of my generals," Zarina calls out, sitting on a stool, "He noted your quick reflexes and awareness to the battlefield. Your loyalty was also present in the form of saving JJ from regrowing his left arm. Seung-gil voted in your favor and so did JJ."

"That's biased!" Michele would be foaming at the mouth if he went with their only meeting in the barn. "You're my sister, too, won't the people talk?"

Dae-hyun jumps in, "If we were to vote, majority of the minor gods would vote in your favor, Otabek. You're admirable."

"Dae-hyun..."

Seung-gil's cousins earnestly nods next to Zarina, "We agree with the lady. Commander Seung-gil rarely gives out compliments but he came back home several days ago with praises. It is said that you have been blessed if you come home without a serious injury from the front lines, Lord." 

"Let us do that," His sister turns to Chris, who pulls out a piece of parchment and brush from his sleeve to jot it down. "A vote open to the public for the next candidate."

"Noted."

"Great," Zarina cheerily says, linking arms with Madina as she rises and floats away, "It's dinner time, Beka, do join us."

When it came to the day, Otabek stays in his room until the very last minute and makes it into the large circular room where they first saw JJ. It's full of all the gods in full court wear, and being a candidate, Madina had wrangled him into a stifling green and black number and threw his imperial armor into the corner of his room.

"At court," She'd said that morning before she left, "Your mind is your weapon. We do not fight with fists."

"I hate court."

"Too bad," She laughed.

Now standing in the very back of the room, half hidden between the shadows and Leo, he watches Seung-gil read every single paper slip and drop them into piles. There's five of them on the large table in front of Phichit, and the largest pile is twice as tall as the other ones. He can feel Michele glare at him from across the room.

"Why don't they use magic?" Otabek mutters into Leo's ear, watching his sisters drag a box as tall as themselves from the back, full of slips.

Leo leans into him, "It's cheating. Better to read each slip one by one and confirm the vote with your own eyes. It's a pretty much guaranteed that you're in at this point. Unless that last one is completely full of Michele's name, he won't stand a chance."

"Speak louder won't you?"

Leo grins.

Otabek stares at nothing while keeping his face perfectly composed, thinking of the newly erected laws and established borders. Maybe he could be assigned to border patrol— escape Michele while seeing all the Middle world has to offer. That would be nice, he also never visited Earth.

"The people have chosen," Phichit says, voice magnified as he holds up one slip of paper, the name written in a curling script, "and our new god is Otabek!"

Several members of the court scowl, but majority of them are clapping. His sisters don't clap to keep everything neutral, though he can see it in their eyes that they're proud; Leo and JJ tackle him and squeeze him into a rib-crushing hug, mussing his hair. Phichit folds the slip neatly and pockets it, waving an arm as the table clears and the court form a loose semi-circle, pulling him into the very middle of the room.

Zarina pats his hair into place and makes him kneel, speaking out loud to the gods around them of how she wished for him to be born, a weapon to help them turn over the tide of war. A god of victory and war, the only one within their circle to carry two identities.

He steps back as his weary predecessor shuffles in front of him, reciting the words to name him the next god of war, ichor dripping onto the floor. The old god has wrinkles lining his eyes, head covered in white, looking at Otabek with something akin to pity.

He wonders exactly what had made the old god give up immortality.

A blink, and he disappears. Zarina calls one of her Regalias into a dagger, flitting the silver blade between her knuckles. The court wait with baited breath.

He offers her his sword hand and watches her slash his palm.

And as the hall erupts in celebration, his blood drips down onto the marble, gold.

**Author's Note:**

> currently brainstorming the origin story of otabek's first regalia, tell me if you want to see more of this timeline?


End file.
